CHAPTER 31

“Go—go—go!” Kana yelled. He bolted out of the tunnel and crawled to Line and Marin, who were perched at the edge of the cave entrance and looking down.

“Is it behind you?” gasped Marin.

“I don’t think so,” he said, looking back into the darkened cave. “It’s probably too big to fit, but I can’t be sure.”

“Let’s not find out,” said Line. “Kana—can you see a way down the cliff wall?”

Kana inched his way to the edge and looked down a steep cliff that dropped nearly a hundred feet down to a rocky beach below. The rain had stopped and the sky was lighter than before. The moon peeked through the clouds. He glanced out toward the horizon. The sea had withdrawn a long ways and in its wake was a vast expanse of rocks, strewn with kelp and seaweed. It was a spectacular, otherworldly landscape. There were great rock formations, canyons, clusters of coral, and the carcasses of thousands of fish.

The most pressing matter was getting down the cliff. He examined the edge and saw a chicken head—a bulbous knob of rock sticking out of the cliff face. Lithe as a cat, Kana swung his legs over, grabbed the chicken head, and disappeared over the edge. He hung there for a few seconds as he looked for his next move. Despite the direness of their circumstances, he was pleased by how easily he could maneuver along the wall. He had never climbed as well as Marin, but now he felt supremely confident.

Just to his right, about five feet away, was a dark seam in the rock that ran straight down to the shoreline. It was a natural feature sometimes found in the cliffs, and for those with climbing experience, it made an ascent or descent doable—even easy. This particular seam gradually widened into a chimney—a crack wide enough to fit an entire body. Descending this particular chimney would be easy for Marin, even in the dark. Line would have a harder time because of his ankle, but the brace would help. On an island like theirs, with its perimeter of high cliffs, most people could free-climb all but the steepest of headwalls. The only complication now was that it had been raining and the rock face was wet.

“There’s a way down!” yelled Kana as he continued his descent. “Just over the precipice, there’s a nice chicken head—hang from it and then crab-walk to the seam on your right. Farther down, it’ll open into a chimney. Take it slow—the rock is wet and icy in a few places.” They heard Kana continue down the wall.

Line nodded at Marin to go next.

“No, you go ahead,” said Marin, pushing him gently toward the precipice. “You have to be careful of your ankle—and your arm.”

“Go on,” he said. “Please. If I’m in front, I’ll slow you down.” There was a solid resoluteness in his voice. “There’s nothing coming . . . If it was, it’d be here by now.”

Marin hesitated, then walked up to him and hugged him close. “Be careful,” she whispered. Then she walked to the edge of the cliff and slipped over with practiced ease.

Line glanced back at the empty mouth of the cave. He wanted to follow Marin immediately, but knew he had to wait. He was injured. He wasn’t entirely certain how well he could climb; if he fell or slipped, he didn’t want to be right on top of her. Line counted out a full minute to give himself maneuvering room. By the time he’d counted to thirty, he was sorely tempted to fling himself over the edge. He kept glancing back, dreading what he might see or hear, but the cave behind him remained silent.

Fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty.

Just as Line began descending, Kana’s feet touched the rocky shore at the base of the cliff. Kana had gone incredibly fast, much faster than was prudent. His arms and fingers burned with exertion. He moved several feet away and watched Marin and Line pick their way down the cliff. Marin would be down in no time. Line was slower and the jerky way in which he moved made Kana anxious.

“Come on,” he muttered. “Come on, Line.”

Then suddenly, way above—at the top of the cliff—a flicker of a shadow caught Kana’s attention. Did I really see it? Is my mind playing tricks on me? No. There it was again. Something was moving across the cliff, toward Line, and quickly.

Kana screamed at the top of his voice, “LINE! LINE! ABOVE YOU!”

Startled, Line bobbled his grip on the cliff and hugged it even tighter. At first, he couldn’t understand why Kana was screaming. But then he caught a glimpse of it. Something was moving down the cliff. He was at the top of the seam, before it opened up into the chimney. He froze against the wall. He needed to find a better defensive position, but where? The chimney, of course. However, the seam that he was climbing angled downward and did not open into the chimney for another eight feet. The noise from overhead was getting louder. He didn’t have time to inch his way along.

Instincts kicked in. I have to move. Now. Line leapt, free-falling for a fraction of a second, and then—using all the strength in his good arm—he caught a rock outcropping. Seconds later, he’d pulled himself flush against the chimney.

His heart was pounding, all his senses were activated, and for the first time in what seemed like ages, he felt totally and utterly alive. Other thoughts and fears vanished. Francis, the mayor, the boats, the sunstone, the fishing depot—all of it was replaced by complete presence in the moment. The thing was coming fast.

It was almost there.

Line reached behind him to grab the vegetable sack tied to his back. He withdrew his long knife and felt its weight in his hand. His breathing slowed and he felt distant from himself, as if he were a mere observer. Wait for it, Line told himself. Patience is the key. Wait for it.

As it drew closer, Line went completely still. A clawed foot appeared on a rock a yard or so above his head. Line fought the urge to slash at it. Wait for it. Wait for it. Soon, he was rewarded by the appearance of two legs edging their way into the chimney. They were a foot or two away.

Now. Line hurled himself up and thrust the blade deep into the creature’s thigh.

The creature screamed and tried to pull away, but Line was quicker. Still gripping the handle of the knife, he yanked it downward so that the blade ripped through leg muscle and ligaments. Hot blood sprayed Line, but he held on and plunged the knife deeper into the creature’s leg.

Its scream turned high-pitched. The creature pulled itself up and away from the chimney. Line lost his grip on the knife and it fell away. He clung to the chimney, aware that his arms and legs were trembling uncontrollably. Easy, he told himself. Line forced himself to peel individual fingers away from the rock. They throbbed. He dimly heard Marin and Kana shouting. All of this happened in a feverish blur. Line descended as quickly as he dared, aware of a terrible thirst gathering in the bottom of his throat. Then, suddenly, he was off the cliff. Exhaustion enveloped him, and he crumpled to the ground.

Marin knelt at his feet, concern etched across her face. “Line?”

“Did I kill it?” he asked.

“Kill it?” said Marin. “I don’t know.”

“Then I probably didn’t,” said Line. “Or it would have fallen.”

Line glanced down at his hands, which were covered in blood. Again. He knelt over a nearby pool of stranded seawater and rubbed the blood off his hands, all too aware that he had done the same thing in the hermit’s house. The water was bracingly cold. Once his hands were clean, he splashed water on his face. For a moment, he began to replay what just happened in his mind, but then he shook his head and forced himself to stop. Not useful.

He looked up at the cliff, then at Kana. “Are there more?”

Before responding, Kana stood for a full minute, studying the cliff face. “I don’t see anything,” he said at last.

Line nodded in relief. “Did you see what happened to my knife?”

“No,” Kana replied, shaking his head. “I didn’t see it drop—I was looking at you.” He glanced at Marin. “Did you see it?”

Marin sighed. “No,” she said. “Here, take mine.”

Line examined the blade. “Keep it,” he said finally. “My arm hurts too much for me to use it well.” It was hard for him to admit this, but it was a fact. Only facts will help you escape—not hopes, fears, or wishes.

Kana turned away from the conversation; something on the exposed seabed drew his attention. He walked forward several paces across the slippery, seaweed-covered rocks, then stopped.

“What is it?” Marin called.

“A statue of a woman. And there’s another one just like it farther out.”

Marin looked at Line. “Palan’s statue. The hag.”

“Does it have writing on it?” she called out.

“Yes,” Kana called back. He had to shout louder to be heard. “It looks like more rules.”